


through the fire and the abyss

by DawningStar



Series: Aoba Lives AU [1]
Category: Dreaming of Sunshine - Silver Queen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gardens, Dimension Travel, Gen, Time Travel, Uchiha!Sai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-03-07 00:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawningStar/pseuds/DawningStar
Summary: If Aoba were alive, Shikako would never have left him.  What difference would it make?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wafflelate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflelate/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Early Is On Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13078869) by [wafflelate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflelate/pseuds/wafflelate). 
  * Inspired by [the dark fire will not avail you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14871546) by [wafflelate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflelate/pseuds/wafflelate). 



> I hope you enjoyed the surprise.  (Many thanks to my secret beta, Pepperdoken!)
> 
> This work is based on the dark fire will not avail you, by wafflelate. Assume that the conversations with Ibiki and with Sai went the same, except that with Aoba technically in charge Shikako wouldn't mention Akatsuki yet.

The intruder looks exactly like Aoba except for the poorly healed scar across his throat, red and raw. It’s bothering Inoichi. Why give a spy an identical appearance at all with such an obvious difference? Why Aoba with such an unbelievable story, when Aoba’s just fine and in Konoha? 

Why the flakes of dry blood clinging stubbornly to the imposter’s hair, to his ears? Why leave out the sunglasses, of all things, when everyone in Konoha recognizes Aoba by them? 

Inoichi tries not to judge ahead of a mind-walk. He’ll need to find out the answers himself. 

He follows Tsunade-sama into the cell. The man with Aoba’s face offers them Aoba’s warm smile, hinting at faint apology and fear well buried. “Thanks for coming, Inoichi,” he says, very much like Aoba would, and turns the chair so as to keep its support during the technique with no prompting and absolutely no trepidation. 

Aoba would be that familiar with the Yamanaka skills, but no one outside Konoha ought to be. The dissonance is even worse than it was with the girl claiming to be Shikaku’s lost daughter, this stranger much closer to duplicating Aoba and all the more unsettling for it. 

“It will be easier if you cooperate,” Inoichi says, though there’s an edge to his careful neutrality he can’t quite hide. 

Tsunade-sama had insisted on going first to the younger and more defiant of their prisoners. The girl had not cooperated, very likely could not with the evidence of mental trauma left jagged everywhere in her shadowed mind. 

Her instinctive violent reaction left Inoichi with spiritual bruises despite the safety seals and her complete lack of chakra within the cell. He doesn’t appreciate Tsunade-sama’s orders to continue, even if she listened to his assessment of risk in the end. He’s trying not to think of that right now, because it isn’t helpful to the calm focus required for attempting to read someone’s mind. 

By contrast the man who looks like Aoba says, “I’ll try.” And it isn’t quite Aoba’s tone, there’s something off, Inoichi watches his eyes flick to a distant point as he reaches up to touch the bright red scar on his throat. 

Aoba hasn’t sounded so unsure about his own ability to pass information in Holding-Door Mind Transmission since he was about fourteen. Given what he saw in the girl’s mind, Inoichi is wary. 

Inoichi seizes the chance to catch the prisoner distracted, which often helps open reluctant minds. 

This prisoner’s mind is not reluctant. The mind that thinks of itself as Aoba welcomes Inoichi’s chakra with the confident familiarity of a Konoha Intel shinobi who’s known him for more than a decade. 

His mind feels like Aoba to Inoichi, too, and that shouldn’t be possible to fake. Aoba, caught in a memory: hanging upside down, throat slit open so deep he can feel the trickle of blood past his chin — 

Aoba’s mind, disciplined enough to tuck the trauma of dying away for later because it might hurt his guest. 

Back. Aoba felt relieved to see Inoichi’s familiar sealwork, felt hopeful that Inoichi would believe him as Inoichi has always believed him. Aoba was worrying about Shikako, frightened for his kohai in this place that is like and vastly unlike home. 

Back. Aoba was thinking about Tsunade-sama, how well he’s worked with her, how deeply he trusts her to do her very best for Konoha, how she’s never dismissed his offers of information quite like that, how hard Tsunade-sama works to protect and heal her ninja, how unlike her it is to push Inoichi so hard. 

Aoba was watching the strain in Inoichi’s expression and concluding something went wrong with Shikako. 

Back. Shikako had carried Aoba toward Konoha, toward home, as Aoba drifted in and out of consciousness from a weakness deeper than bone, and he’s embarrassed to need the help, he’s grateful past words to have proof she’s breathing every time he wakes. 

Farther back. Aoba had woken cold and bloody and shockingly alive. He had reached for his own throat and found it whole in spite of the gore on his fingers and face that say it should not be. Shikako lay limp and blood-drenched beside him but a panicked touch told him she was breathing deep and her stomach where the staff ripped through her shirt is at least as well healed as his throat. 

Aoba knew she’d been taking lessons at the hospital, but he wouldn’t have expected quite such a high level of competence. Something to do with her seals, maybe, he had wondered. 

Farther back, and Aoba’s mind coils defensively not against Inoichi’s touch but around him, to protect him, to mute the screaming horror: 

it is _there_ it is _watching him_ , the thing from outside, the pressure that breaks, the glee at their deaths and their pain — 

Shikako is on the altar and she’s dying, his tiny kohai, stabbed through the gut, and for all her fight the priests pour his blood into her mouth — 

The priests had cut his throat deep enough to kill him but not so deep as to end the pain, he was dying but not fast enough to escape the looming terrible presence — 

And then Shikako had...Aoba doesn’t know. He saw her terror and her pain and her desperate tears. He did not see the last defiant seal of Konoha’s Nara seal-mistress, he only felt it catch him by the blood. 

(Of course Shikako would never leave a teammate behind alive. She’s Kakashi’s student.) 

Inoichi flinches from the corrosive inescapable looming hatred, even at this distance of memory, even with Aoba trying to filter it down, and almost loses hold of his own jutsu as he thinks _no wonder Shikako_ — 

Aoba’s mind leans into the jutsu with deft familiarity, counterbalancing Inoichi’s shock, and pushes through the pain and despair. Back, with Aoba’s professional touch, to linger on the priest who shouted “To be a priest of Jashin is to know death!” 

Farther back, the seals that had weakened him, the priests that had captured him.

Farther back, infiltrating Hot Springs with Shikako. 

Farther back, talking over the mission. 

Farther back, leaving from Konoha’s gates. 

Farther back, Tsunade-sama assigns Aoba to Shikako’s Intel mission to find traces of this Jashin cult and orders him, “Keep her safe,” affection and concern in her voice. 

At the time Aoba had been going over what he knew about Shikako Nara: last year the whole village heard about the genin who replaced with her teammate, Sasuke, and spent weeks in a coma screaming for her trouble. She’d only survived Itachi Uchiha’s Tsukuyomi torture by Tsunade-sama’s intervention. Too self-sacrificing by half, that kid. 

Aoba’s mind interrupts the flow of memory: he’s wondering whether Shikako is safe. Aoba is not sure what could change Tsunade-sama so much. Aoba knows no possible version of Inoichi would appreciate being told to force a kid who’s been through as much as Shikako into Holding-Door Mind Transmission. 

Inoichi shuts the jutsu down, willing to admit only to himself that Aoba isn’t wrong about that. 

None of the rest of it looked fake, either. Impossible, but not fake. 

Released, Aoba falls back against the chair, trembling slightly and swallowing hard. Inoichi wishes he’d gotten a chair himself, his stomach is roiling in protest. 

“Well?” Tsunade-sama demands impatiently. 

Inoichi braces his knees and runs a quick mind-clearing mantra. He can’t afford to show weakness in the interrogation cell, even if the prisoner is Aoba, even if seeing Shikako reminds him horribly of Ino’s grief. 

“His memories confirm that they’re both from a different Konoha,” he reports, and shakes his head. “Aoba witnessed the mental attack on Shikako. Running any mental jutsu on her would backlash, she can’t control that.” 

Tsunade-sama gives a dismissive snort, which is all the argument Inoichi can afford right now. 

Shikaku will need a full report, and if Tsunade-sama insists on using the Mind Reading Amplification machine on Aoba after this certain comparisons in the minds of the interrogators are only a logical consequence of what she orders. 

Aoba says with the firm confidence of someone who’s been working Intelligence for years, “I don’t mind being in the MRA, but Shikako doesn’t have enough experience not to panic and I don’t want her to hurt our allies.” 

Allies. Inoichi has to admire that ambiguity of phrasing. Who wants to make themselves the enemy of the girl who shut down that thing with a seal and lived? Not Inoichi. 

Apparently Shikaku’s little girl grew up terrifying. He’d be so proud. 

Inoichi looks to Tsunade-sama, who scowls, unconvinced. 

Without any notable expression Aoba adds, “If I could see Shikako for a moment on the way there, I’d appreciate it. Just to make sure she’s okay.” 

That’s a careful blankness. Inoichi isn’t reading his mind anymore but he can still put pieces that obvious together. Of course Aoba wants to make sure Shikako is all right...and he also wants to make sure she doesn’t feel compelled to pull another impossible seal escape because she jumps to the conclusion he’s being tortured. 

After a trauma like that it’s far from an unreasonable reaction. 

“It wouldn’t delay anything,” Inoichi says, neutrally, to Tsunade-sama. The MRA needs four skilled people on the points and asking their own Aoba to help would be entirely too strange, so they have to wait for Ibiki, Raidō, and Santa. 

Aoba had been an unconscious burden slung over little Shikako’s shoulders when they reached the gates, Shikako pleading for someone with more practice to check her partner’s health. 

The T&I medics had eventually reported that Aoba was recovering just fine from massive blood loss and that his throat was inexpertly patched but nothing that should give a ninja long-term trouble. His spells of unconsciousness didn’t seem to have any cause at all, except maybe the blood loss, but had improved with time. He hasn’t been permitted to see Shikako since he woke inside Konoha, separated as per typical procedure for unknown ninja. 

Tsunade-sama snorts. “Why should we?” 

It’s not an outright dismissal, which is something. “Allowing them a short meeting would give us more information,” Inoichi points out. He shouldn’t have to point out something so simple to the Hokage. 

She waves an impatient hand. “Fine. On the way to the MRA. Get him ready.” 

Appropriate procedures for moving prisoners include chakra seals as well as physical binding. Aoba lifts his arms without being asked, cooperative and expectant. 

Inoichi suspects that treating the pair from an alternate Konoha as allies would actually get Tsunade-sama more information, but it’s impossible to argue with her on subjects like this, as he has proven several times to his own dismay. 

When they reach the viewing area for the other interrogation cell, Ibiki’s frowning at Hikaku Uchiha, whose innocent smile could use a lot of work.

* * *

Shikako’s had just about enough of being held captive. 

It worries her tremendously that of all the stars turning around her in the patterns of T&I, her own senpai and fellow prisoner is by far the dimmest, as though something had blotted out nine-tenths of his light. If not for the fact that she can feel the unmistakable pinprick light of Aoba’s presence growing slowly stronger, she’d have done something drastic already. 

All right, maybe she did panic a little, back when he kept fading out on her, chakra level fine, throat no longer bleeding, but impossible to wake no matter how many times she called… 

The point is, if this version of Konoha doesn’t let her see Aoba soon, she will find a way to make them regret it. 

When Aoba begins moving toward her cell, Shikako has to time her breaths carefully to avoid showing either hope or relief too early. 

The cell door swings open. Faint new traces of chakra make her cough. 

With Inoichi and Tsunade-sama stands Aoba, face bare of sunglasses but his throat clean, no blood on his clothes, the scar not as bad as Shikako remembers leaving it. “Aoba!” she exclaims, leaping up in joy. 

He holds out his bound arms and she can’t help pressing her head against his beating heart just for a moment. Hugs aren’t common among shinobi, but neither is what she and Aoba faced together. He was dying, and he thought she was dying too, sacrificed to something worse than death. 

They’re alive, both of them, Shikako hasn’t completely failed her mission partner yet. 

“I’m so sorry I got us lost,” she tells him. She’d tried to talk to Aoba before they got to Konoha, but he’d intermittently fallen unconscious and also back then she hadn’t known just how lost they were. 

Aoba shakes his head, patting her shoulder in reassurance. “You got us out of there alive. That’s enough of a miracle for one mission, Shikako, give yourself some credit.” 

“But I don’t know how to get home,” she whispers. The words come out sounding younger and more lost than she’d intended. 

“We’ll figure that out together.” Aoba sighs. “You don’t have to do everything alone, Shikako. I’d like to be some use this mission.” 

She chuckles hoarsely. “I hope you always secretly wanted to learn about seals, then.” 

“I hadn’t before, but now I can’t help thinking of all the new gossip I could bring home,” Aoba says dryly. 

Shikako steps back and gives him a measuring look. “You do sound more like yourself,” she judges, reluctant to admit gratitude to people who hadn’t even let her see him, but relieved to find her mission partner in good enough health to joke. 

His right hand lifts to check his own throat for a moment, as though instinctively, but he catches it midway and offers her a rueful smile. “I’m fine, or I will be. Listen. I want to make sure everyone here has all the detail they need about our situation, so I’ve offered to spend some time in the Mind Reading Amplification machine.” 

Offered like Shikako had offered to cooperate with Inoichi’s mind scan? Her fingernails dig sharply into her palms as her hands clench. 

“Don’t worry,” Aoba tells Shikako. “I’ve done this kind of thing plenty of times, it won’t hurt me. I’ll be fine. Okay?” 

She scowls darkly past him, as a warning for everyone involved and particularly Inoichi himself. “I hear you. But if it isn’t fine, I am going to come and get you no matter who I have to go through.” 

“Is that a threat?” Tsunade-sama inquires, sounding more bored than threatened. 

Shikako blinks once and puts on a bright smile. Learning pure Kakashi sarcasm is just one of the many benefits of being part of Team Seven. “Words of comfort to my recovering senpai,” she explains, dangerously cheerful. “The hospital encourages that!” 

Inoichi and Aoba both smother coughs of their own, which Shikako assumes are unrelated to her chakra sense. It’s nice to be appreciated. 

“Try not to get into any trouble you can’t get out of while I’m busy,” Aoba recommends. 

That’s such a wide category that she’s pretty sure he’d forgive her if it became necessary to blow up some cells. But she nods. Even Shikako can see that explosives should be a last resort here. “No dying,” she orders Aoba in return. “It’s a rule, all right?” 

Now that she’s dragged Aoba into a strange world with no way home, he definitely counts as honorary Team Seven. 

Aoba reaches to pat her head, Kakashi-style, possibly just to mess with her; Shikako can’t really mind it under the circumstances. “All right,” he agrees. 

“You’ve had your time,” Tsunade says, voice so cold Shikako hardly recognizes it. “Get moving.” 

“Thank you, Tsunade-sama,” Aoba says more politely than Shikako can manage, stepping toward the door as ordered. “I’ll see you again soon, Shikako.” 

The door and the seals swing back into place, cutting her off from chakra but not from the flicker of starlight that means Aoba. Shikako sighs, not bothering to hide her worry from whoever is watching, and stretches out on the interrogation table in order to close her eyes and focus on the wounded spark who’s her partner and her responsibility. 

Busy tracking the motion of Aoba and his interrogators toward the depths where they keep the equipment Tobirama designed especially to boost the Yamanaka techniques, Shikako almost misses the change closer to her own cell. Most of Tsunade’s constellation went with Aoba, but what she thought were just more Intel shinobi seem to be moving faster and with more purpose than people on guard duty. 

Splitting her attention is hard. She can’t do anything for Aoba from here, but if what this Konoha is trying goes wrong enough to dim what light he has left, she’s determined to be there. 

The door clicks open again much sooner than Shikako would have expected. She can sense Sai outside, but the faces that meet her as she sits up belong to two Uchiha she's never met before in life. 

Mikoto Uchiha wearing a polite half-smile. Sasuke's mother, long since murdered by her oldest son Itachi. 

Behind her, Uzume Uchiha, glaring suspiciously. Dead, but probably not murdered by Itachi; the death certificate after the massacre had shown how many wounds it took to bring Uzume down, while Shikako had only seen what Itachi imagined her look of betrayal would be. 

She’s never known them. She has watched them die a thousand times. 

She can't see the sky, she can't tell how red it is. Shikako stares at them, trying hard not to vomit and waste the only food anyone's given her since her arrest. Neither of them are presently being murdered in front of her. Probably not Tsukuyomi. 

Shikako flicks her eyes down, searching for distraction. Both Uchiha wear dark blue, jōnin-level armor, as though prepared for a fight. Somehow the fine embroidery on Mikoto’s clothing looks fancy enough to pass for a formal occasion at the same time. 

Mikoto turns long enough to add a seal to the room that Shikako recognizes as a complex privacy screen. Uzume, arms crossed, doesn’t speak or take her wary red eyes off Shikako. 

“There,” Mikoto says with a kind smile. “We’ll be able to talk a little more freely now. Tsunade-sama understands that some topics shouldn’t be common gossip.” 

At last here’s something Shikako can’t argue against. She swallows hard, feeling for Aoba’s spark (he’s still okay) and struggling to come up with anything appropriate to say to Sasuke’s mom. “Why are you here?” she blurts at last, too tired to be polite, and regrets the question at once. 

From a pouch at her waist, Mikoto produces a hairbrush and a simple braid fastener. “Hikaku sent a message that he needed a hair tie, as soon as possible, in connection with a debt.” 

Shikako stares at her. Hikaku is the name Sai called himself earlier, Sai who is and is not her friend. Somehow she never expected Sai to contact Sasuke’s clan for help...but Sai is an Uchiha here. Maybe she ought to have considered the possibility he would send word to his family. 

That’s so strange. 

“The Uchiha clan takes our debts very seriously,” Mikoto continues, watching Shikako’s confusion with sharp dark eyes. “What would you say we owe you?” 

Confusion transmutes all at once into genuine horror. “Nothing!” Shikako denies, stumbling off the table with a graceless jolt. 

She didn’t do anything for any of them. She let the massacre happen, let Sai go back to Danzō over and over. She hasn’t even been honest with Sasuke about the murder of his clan. 

“Even after everything Hikaku told you about his friend?” Mikoto pushes, eyebrows raised. 

The conversation tilts enough to let Shikako make sense of it. Of course Mikoto doesn’t mean that offer, of course they want to know if she’s a danger to Sai. Good. Sai needs people who will look out for him. 

“I’m not her,” Shikako tries to explain, calmer with the new perspective. “She made those choices. I made different ones.” She shakes her head, sinking into the chair again, a half-hearted attempt not to look like a threat. “I don’t mind answering his questions in honor of her, but he shouldn’t owe me anything.” 

Mikoto’s smile returns, crooked and indefinably warmer. “I agree.” She reaches forward just far enough to place the brush and braid fastener on the interrogation table. “You’ve answered enough questions to earn these, at least.” 

Tangles keep getting in Shikako’s eyes. She’s in no position to turn down the offer. The brush and hair tie look perfectly ordinary. The chance of the items being a strange trap is low, by her estimation. 

She picks up the brush and begins work, swinging the mess over her shoulder to start with the lowest set of snarls. “I’m grateful for your trouble,” she tells her visitors. “Please give Hikaku my thanks, too.” Sai called his family in as backup. She doesn’t think that was his first instinct. It means a lot that he went so far, even if now Shikako’s worrying about all of them. 

“You’re quite welcome.” Mikoto gives a gracious nod as though Shikako were a guest and not a prisoner. 

Even starting to set her hair in order makes Shikako feel infinitely better, more like Shikako and less like the civilian she’d pretended to be in Hot Springs. 

Since the Uchiha seem inclined to give her a moment’s peace to work on her hair, she spends it focusing back on Aoba’s presence. Still weak, but still unharmed as far as she can tell. 

As Shikako sets the brush down and begins to tug her hair into a quick braid, Mikoto says almost casually, “In honor of her, then, would you tell me what happened to my clan the way you remember it?” 

Shikako has to admire Mikoto’s interrogation techniques, even if she finds them highly unpleasant. The worst part is that Mikoto has every right to the information, and Aoba probably won’t see any reason to hide it. She sighs and slumps in her chair, eyes fixed on fastening the hair tie to avoid looking up. “Sasuke survived.” Better to start with the sole point of good news. “He’s one of my teammates. Sasuke and Naruto, on Team Seven, with Kakashi-sensei.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Mikoto says after a pause. “And?” 

Oh, right, Sai is an Uchiha here. Somehow Shikako keeps forgetting. “And...Hikaku doesn’t have Sharingan, so he’s not...not in...the same danger.” Far from safe, far from well, but not a target. 

Mikoto waits and eventually has to prompt again, “Danger?” 

The reminder makes Shikako flinch. Aoba’s stubborn light is still okay, for now. “Look,” she says sharply, “this is private? Please don’t tell Aoba-senpai anything I say about Danzō Shimura. Danzō isn’t dead yet, at home.” Aoba would certainly go looking for clues, and she’s gone to a lot of trouble to keep him alive. 

“I won’t say anything to him without your permission,” Mikoto agrees easily. Shikako knows the sound of a subtle parental _I hope you’ll think better of that idea_ , but it’ll do until Mikoto understands. 

This version of Sai had told her how his partner died, a plan Shikako herself has long kept on very quiet reserve. “I still don’t have a plan better than getting myself killed exposing Danzō,” Shikako has to admit, with a groan. “Nothing that won’t put everyone I care about in danger. No real evidence.” 

Mikoto hums, soft and nonjudgmental. “Don’t you believe the Nara clan would listen to your warning?” 

Her family would listen. They might die for it. Shikako scrabbles mentally for a way to explain what she knows, gives up. These are facts Mikoto and her clan will need, never mind how Shikako found them. 

She straightens her back to look them both in the eyes, to watch their reactions. “Danzō took Shisui’s eye.” 

Mikoto’s expression twists in shocked comprehension, the look of fitting a puzzle piece that unlocks too many terrible truths. 

A half-choked growl escapes Uzume, her face flickering pure rage before going deadly blank. “What would you know about Shisui?” she demands, stung to speech for the first time. 

Not much. A memory, a name. “I never really met him,” Shikako admits. Had Uzume known him? 

“The bandaged eye was completely destroyed in the battle,” Mikoto says, pale. “This would explain why Hikaku’s friend believed that one in particular was such a threat.” 

Shikako nods. She’s had a long time to think about this and considering the scope of the danger never leaves her any happier. “I don’t have any proof who Danzō might have used it on, not here and not at home. Only guesses, bad feelings...I’m an excellent chakra sensor.” As explanation, this is more misdirection than actual truth, even though it is true. “I know enough about strategy to see the most obvious moves and countermoves.” 

“You don’t think going to your father is safe.” Worry pulls down her expression. 

“The Jōnin Commander and the Hokage are very important people,” Shikako says in weary agreement. 

Mikoto’s lips thin, and she says nothing at all. Does she have enough evidence of her own to put that together? Probably. If not, Shikako being openly treasonous won’t win any favors. 

But Mikoto had asked about her clan, and Shikako still hasn’t answered that. Talking about Danzō is terrible...yet so much easier than talking about Itachi. 

Shikako rubs a hand along her newly braided plait. “Having suspicions about what Danzō might do isn’t a comfortable position,” she murmurs. If she keeps the report vague, maybe she can get through this. “I had suspicions. I did nothing.” Her eyes drift downward in shame, against her will. “Your clan died. I’m so very sorry.” 

Mikoto doesn’t let this pause linger. “Not killing yourself to save us doesn’t make any of that your fault, Shikako-chan.” Her tone is more gentle than Shikako can bear. It’s so strange to hear her own name and feel as though it ought to mean someone else entirely. 

Not being blamed doesn’t precisely make Shikako feel better about the entire mess. She presses a fist against her mouth and blinks hard, her mind reaching for Aoba’s spark by habit. He’s no worse, surrounded by people who ought to be allies, people Shikako desperately hopes can still be trusted here. 

After a while Mikoto exhales audibly. “So far you’ve only mentioned Danzō Shimura as a danger. That implies some things I need you to be more specific about. In your world, did Itachi kill his clan?” 

The question was inevitable, but Shikako can’t quite help flinching at the name. She can’t give false hope, can’t give a yes or no answer. “I think so.” At least half? He helped. “There’s no proof otherwise. I just don’t think it was his idea.” 

At this response Mikoto rubs one hand against her heart for a moment, face carefully blank. Unwilling to trust her own feelings on the subject. Shikako understands that. 

Anyone who gets too detailed about descriptions of the Mangekyou invites an even less friendly interrogation. Shikako’s been pushing the boundaries hard already. She can’t say much more, but she’s had a little time to think over the situation now. Sai will certainly have a new Mangekyou of some kind after watching little Shikako-chan’s sacrifice, and she has no idea whether the Uchiha clan can afford to leave him out. Can anyone else see or break a power like Shisui’s? 

Her hands curl together, thoughtful. “If the boys talk their way into things, will you please remind them that no version of me would want them hurt, and that shadow clones are a perfectly acceptable way to scout? They don’t need two dozen at a time to be useful.” No matter what Naruto made it look like. 

At that, Mikoto manages a soft chuckle. “Spoken like a Nara who knows Team Seven,” she judges. 

Naruto’s all right in this world, then, cloning himself everywhere as much as ever. Shikako smiles back with all the fondness she feels for her team. “Team Seven is amazing in any world.” 

When she actually finds a way home, she needs to remember to ask this world’s Mikoto to write something to her own Sasuke. It would mean a lot to him. Not right this minute, though, not when the request would distract them both. 

Aoba’s still alive, and Sai’s new family seems to be willing to accept her information. Shikako can’t falter now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No new content, sorry! Split to make reading easier.

Inoichi has a headache. Inoichi has many headaches, in fact, and only one of them will go away with enough rest and sleep. He presses both hands against his temples. 

Through the glass wall of an interrogation cell, he watches Aoba’s steady peaceful inhales. The prisoner is curled on a cot, under a thin blanket. It’s strange how vulnerable the simple lack of sunglasses makes him look. 

The disorientation common to being under the Mind Reading Amplification machine will mend itself faster with sleep. Until it does, letting the other timeline’s Shikako see her senpai would be no reassurance at all, worse than useless. 

In the meantime, Inoichi has no time for the rest he himself desperately needs. Processing the results and the implications of the long mindscan is a nightmare. 

Far too much detail, far too much truth to be false memories or careful lies. At the same time, there’s nothing Inoichi can trust to be true or relevant here, in the only timeline that he can do anything about. 

“He’s certainly Aoba,” Ibiki mutters, watching beside him. All of the shinobi capable of using Holding-Door Mind Transmission know Aoba’s mind well. Their conclusion is unanimous and unquestionable. 

There would be no need to repeat the fact at all if Ibiki felt, as Tsunade-sama seems to, that this only makes the other Aoba and Shikako greater threats to Konoha. Threats which should be dealt with, quietly and soon. 

At least Inoichi isn’t alone in his headaches. “A motivated Nara with the Hiraishin can’t be taken lightly,” he sighs back. If the prisoners just vanished, maybe some of the headaches would too. 

Their sidelong glances meet for a long moment, neither willing to say the words that would tip them from deniable contingency planning into the much deeper waters of treason. 

A sharp confident knock at the door interrupts the silence. Inoichi steps out of the line of fire, perfectly willing to let Ibiki make anyone who interrupts this for insufficient reason regret it. 

Instead Ibiki says, “Please come in, Mikoto-sama.” 

On the one hand, Inoichi has worked very well with Mikoto as the Uchiha clan head, successfully integrating the remains of the Uchiha into Konoha as a whole and keeping an eye on any potential problems of despair or disloyalty. On the other hand, she and Uzume guard their clan’s surviving children with ferocity and attention that would look a little problematic if it hadn’t been so terribly justified. 

If Mikoto has decided that Shikako is a threat, Inoichi won’t be able to convince her otherwise. 

With only the briefest exchange of pleasantries, Mikoto enters with young Hikaku beside her. “I must request utmost privacy on this conversation.” Her face is calm but her eyes look tired. 

That answers the question of whether Shikako had said anything worth discussion. “Of course,” Inoichi agrees, moving to shift the active privacy seals to an even higher level. Mikoto’s right to use them stemmed from the negotiations after the massacre, and Inoichi has tried very hard never to break her trust. Like the Uchiha clan, the Yamanaka clan has its own issues, vulnerable to misuse. 

Privacy assured, he asks, “What’s your impression of her?” 

“Evasive, but sincere.” Mikoto folds her arms. “I could wish I thought she were lying. She brought up one thing too urgent to wait. Do you remember my cousin Shisui?” 

An old investigation, the death suspiciously close to the massacre. The boy had been Itachi’s friend once. 

Mikoto hardly waits for either of them to nod. “Shisui had a unique power, it’s why the clan put so much pressure on him. His eyes could cast a long-lasting and nearly undetectable form of genjutsu.” 

Why bring it up now? Inoichi has intense misgivings about the whole mess. 

“Shikako asked us not to tell her own mission partner about her worries on this subject. I believe she’s afraid investigating would get Aoba killed,” she adds, tone grim. 

Their prisoners have shown every sign of trust and affection for each other, but Shikako is verifiably too self-sacrificing for her own good. Inoichi doesn’t like the sound of this. How much pressure is she under, if she can’t trust anyone with the full truth? 

“Danzō Shimura is still alive in their version of Konoha,” Mikoto continues her summary, “and Shikako suspects that in both versions he stole Shisui’s eye and used its power for his own purposes.” 

That is unspeakably horrifying and worse than that, plausible. It explains how Danzō hid his treason in plain sight for so long, it explains how their own Shikako-chan vanished quite so thoroughly, it explains quite a bit about her attack plan. Inoichi finds his mouth so dry he can’t even curse. 

Ibiki fills in, a low furious rumble. That’s Anko’s influence for certain, Inoichi notices with dry amusement. 

“Shikako told us she had no evidence except her own feelings, but I wouldn’t have brought this to you without more cause, considering the differences between worlds.” Mikoto rubs her own temples for a moment. “Some Sharingan wielders can see that kind of genjutsu, if they know to look. Uzume reports that Tsunade-sama and the Jōnin Commander are both affected.” 

Had Shikaku accepted the death of his daughter just a little too easily? Inoichi doesn’t know, and he hates every possible answer. He had assumed, like the rest of Konoha, that the death of Shizune left Tsunade-sama harder and less willing to listen, but what would Danzō have told her? 

Danzō Shimura seems to have assumed a thing like _don’t trust the Uchiha_ too obvious to need reinforcing in Tsunade Senju. They are all very fortunate that Tsunade-sama found more sympathy than hatred in her heart for people who struggled not to be reduced to their clan name alone. 

Leftover plots from Danzō would explain the differences from Aoba’s memories so much better, too well for him to have any real doubt. “You’re here to check us, then?” Inoichi asks. Keep moving. Can’t stop now. Sleep will have to wait. This is a full compromise situation. How many of the ANBU had Danzō given orders to? How many elders? 

“You’re clear, sir.” Hikaku bows very slightly, eyes already spinning with a sharp-edged star. 

Somehow it’s not as much a relief as Inoichi would have expected. 

Young Hikaku has made tremendous progress toward mental stability since the first year Inoichi knew him. For months he had claimed not to feel anything, while at the same time grief and guilt for the death of his then-unidentified teammate sent him nearly catatonic. Seeing him tease Sasuke or offer genuine understanding to someone in distress always makes Inoichi proud. 

Right now, watching the bleak frightened look in his red eyes, Inoichi can only feel ashamed. Konoha has failed Shikako-chan twice already. Hikaku shouldn’t be alone in trying to help her alternate this time. 

“You are under the genjutsu,” Hikaku tells Ibiki with a furrowed glance of concentration, “but I should be able to break it, with your permission.” 

To Inoichi’s relief, whatever the details of the genjutsu, it doesn’t include orders to fight attempts to break it. Ibiki just gives a curt nod and braces himself as Hikaku’s eyes flash. 

Ibiki stiffens for a long silent moment. His face turns toward Inoichi with a sickened look, unhappy realization. “The kids,” he says. “The Root kids, the ANBU who never show up for checks. Danzō told me years ago not to worry about them. I forgot them. I _kept_ forgetting them…” 

Within the department, Inoichi has always trusted Ibiki to filter the worst of the ANBU cases his way and look after the rest one way or another. “Not your fault,” he says in grim terrible fury. “Can you show me?” 

Another dose of Holding-Door Mind Transmission isn’t going to improve Inoichi’s headache at all, but the damage requires a look at what Ibiki remembers, so that Inoichi can confirm it to people less inclined to trust the remnant Uchiha clan even after all this time. 

A quick skim across the memories Ibiki offers is enough to tell Inoichi that their hard work is only just beginning. Where for years the edges of thoughts under the genjutsu were unnaturally smooth, impossible to grasp, now Ibiki recalls his own worry and the fact that none of the young inductees to ANBU he worried over have ever shown up for evaluation. 

Convincing proof, as if Inoichi really needed yet more. (He thinks of Fū Yamanaka, thinks of Hikaku’s reluctant reports over the years, and swears not to forget the others.) 

“We’ve got to prioritize Tsunade-sama,” he says, shaking away the biting pain of overdoing his own mind arts. “Once she’s clear she can give orders the ANBU and Shikaku will follow. Ideas?” Getting the Godaime away from her own guards long enough to cast a technique on her they don’t dare tell the guards about is not exactly a trivial exercise. Arguably treason.

A much better option than the actual treason Inoichi has been carefully not contemplating. 

Mikoto and Ibiki begin laying out tentative strategies at the same time, building off one another. 

A sound distracts Inoichi from offering proper input. Over the feed from Aoba’s cell, there’s a abrupt frightened gasp, a choked cry that sounds like “Shikako!” 

If they’d figured Danzō’s poison out earlier, Inoichi might not have had to push Aoba so hard that he’ll be reliving his own death for days. 

“Excuse me,” he says, polite but hurried, and exits the privacy seal to duck into the interrogation cell itself. 

Aoba has both hands pressed tight against his throat where the scar lies. “Inoichi,” he says, blinking with surprise and heartbreaking trust. “They got Shikako, she’s trapped—” 

Under normal circumstances with an ally, Inoichi would offer friendly contact: a hand on Aoba’s shoulder, a safe presence at his back. Now, to a prisoner, he has to stop outside easy reach. “Shikako got you both out,” he says, putting as much reassurance as he can manage in his voice to make up for the fact. “She’s alive. Both of you are in Konoha.” 

Calling either of the prisoners _safe_ is too much irony for Inoichi to swallow right now. Soon, he hopes. Not yet. 

Suspicion kindles for a narrow instant in Aoba’s eyes, for which Inoichi can hardly blame him. They can only offer him imposters, from his point of view, and this isn’t the way Inoichi would ever want to treat an ally who’d been held prisoner long enough to watch death coming. 

“...I remember,” Aoba says at last, shaking his head and consciously forcing his hands down to rest on the edges of the cot. “The other Konoha.” 

“That’s right,” Inoichi agrees. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you that you’re home.” 

It’s not standard procedure to give prisoners the newest Akimichi ration bars, but neither is it standard procedure to keep an old friend who’s loyal enough to die for Konoha imprisoned. Inoichi has been carrying several on him, and several bottles of water, in the expectation that Aoba will want something easy on his stomach. He holds out one of each. 

Aoba accepts with a faint grimace, taking a sip of water before he asks, “How is Shikako?” 

“Making friends,” Inoichi says, vague enough not to infringe on any of the secrets everyone is keeping from one another. “It sounded like she’d convinced someone to fetch her a hair tie.” 

That at least provokes a smile. “Well, good. She was complaining about her hair all the way here.” Worry flickers. 

“I hope I’ll be able to let you see her once you’re coherent enough not to upset her,” Inoichi assures him. “The session in the MRA went very well. I’m grateful you were willing to share so much.” 

Tsunade-sama’s reaction can’t be described as grateful, but if Aoba were one of her people she would be. Maybe she will be. 

“Happy to help,” Aoba says, and if it’s a trifle drier than normal Inoichi can’t blame him. 

Since Aoba’s awake and knows where he is, Inoichi takes the opportunity to ask, “Is there anyone in particular you would trust to remind you where you are, in case I’m busy elsewhere?” 

Busy. Under arrest for attempted treason. Minor details like that. 

Aoba watches him with a steady curiosity, but doesn’t ask. “Anko?” he suggests. 

It’s an interesting choice. If Aoba is filtering for people who wouldn’t kill a desperate kid for trying something stupid, even by accident, a good one. Leaving out the people who had actually been part of Aoba’s interrogation for obvious reasons, Inoichi couldn’t pick better. Unexpected, though. “You know her well?” 

A one-shouldered shrug. “Well enough to trust her, and to recognize her. I can’t imagine Anko changing too much.” 

Aoba doesn’t know that Danzō Shimura’s manipulations are responsible for the major changes, but from that point of view Anko has a good chance of being unaffected: not a jōnin, never close enough to the Hokage to be noticeable. 

Not that he won’t ask Hikaku to look at her first. “I’ll see what I can do,” Inoichi tells him. “Eat what you can, and see if you can get back to sleep.” 

Aoba’s expression grows even more intent. No doubt he knows that under normal conditions, Inoichi would have more questions prepared. Under normal conditions, he would not be trying to figure out how to break the Hokage out of brainwashing he can’t even see. Inoichi misses normal conditions. 

But Aoba still doesn’t ask, which is either a sign of trust or a sign of the apocalypse. “If you see Shikako, tell her you fed me and she should eat,” he requests instead. 

Inoichi nods. “Try not to worry.” 

Impossible advice given the circumstances, but Aoba can’t do anything more to help, he’s already gone above and beyond anything that should be asked of any Konoha shinobi, and he needs to recover from the mental strain before he can even see his mission partner. 

If Shikako ever shares any of her secrets, Aoba will have plenty of opportunity to worry about them later. 

Outside the cell, Inoichi knocks to identify himself at the privacy-sealed barrier. The pause is longer than he expects given that they should have seen him leave. 

When Mikoto hastily waves him inside, her jaw is set tight, face grim. “Tell me that again,” she orders Hikaku. 

By contrast, the kid...is that a genuine smile? No trace of forced expression in the proud tilt of Hikaku’s head. “Uzume-ba told me to report success,” he says, possibly for the second or third time. “She’ll be here soon to talk to you in person.” 

“Excuse me, Ibiki, Inoichi-sama,” Mikoto says with a polite bow. “I will return shortly, and we can all question my cousin in more depth.” 

She sweeps Hikaku out of the room with the dignity of a clan head who is also a veteran parent of a Team Seven genin, intent on making someone regret their foolish choices. Inoichi is only glad that target won’t be him. 

In the meantime Inoichi has a message to send to Anko. He catches Ibiki’s glance long enough to acknowledge the depth of shared relief at having an answer, a hope, and then looks away; it’s still dangerous. 

Some ten minutes later Mikoto and Uzume return, the latter badly hiding a satisfied smirk. Mikoto stalks forward to check the privacy seal again and throws her cousin a look of unhidden cold disapproval instead of the expressionless mask. 

“Don’t overreact, Mikoto,” Uzume sighs, turning her smirk toward Inoichi and Ibiki. “It’s fine now!” Her bright vicious tone isn’t exactly a reassurance. “Or at least Tsunade-sama is. I challenged her to a spar to give Hikaku cover.” 

Mikoto mutters a very soft string of well-worn insults under her breath. “Scouting, Uzume! I know you remember the plan!” 

“This was a better plan,” Uzume insists, with a very sharp grin. 

“Are you sure she’s clear?” Inoichi demands, overworked brain finally catching up with the implications. “She hasn’t taken it as an attack?” 

He can’t disagree with Mikoto’s fury at not being warned before an attempt so high-risk, but if it worked they should all be grateful. If it worked, if the risks don’t backlash and kill them all. 

Uzume tilts her head. “I left the Hokage-sama swearing at Danzō and she told me to apologize to all of you on her behalf. Hikaku and I both think she’s clear.” 

 

Asking Tsunade-sama to spar was actually not a terrible plan, since it’s one of the only situations where a jōnin can use techniques in her direction and not be arrested. If Tsunade-sama accepted, Inoichi can forgive a little improvisation as long as it worked. 

Of course, he’s not the one whose remaining family members put themselves at risk. Better to let Mikoto finish scolding...even if by the look of it Uzume is never going to feel the least bit sorry for ending the dishonor Danzō forced on her student Shisui.

* * *

The agitated motion of some of the sparks Shikako senses in the distance hasn’t told her much. Something’s happening? Maybe. Enough evidence to frustrate her, not enough to conclude whether Sai or his new protective family are in danger, not enough to know how to help. 

Aoba at least is alive, the distinctive dim coal resting undisturbed and flickering slowly toward the direction of normal. If she can judge accurately, that is, if she isn’t deluding herself with her own desperation. 

Being stuck in a chakra-empty cell seems all too likely to drive her crazy if she stays long enough. She lets out a sigh, sitting upright on the table for a change of pace. 

She doesn’t expect Sai to burst through the cell door, eyes black and unguarded, wearing a bright proud relieved smile she’s never seen on either version of her friend. “It’s going to be okay, Shikako.” 

That’s a major shift in attitude and Shikako wants to ask all about the change, but holds her tongue in case of giving away too much. 

Behind Sai, Uzume Uchiha steps in, still wary enough to have her Sharingan red and active but not actually aiming a glare at Shikako. It’s an improvement. 

Uzume doesn’t say anything until she’s checked that the privacy seals are active again. “Go ahead,” she tells Sai, tone gruff but no less pleased than Sai, if Shikako’s experience translating Uchiha emotion has taught her anything. 

“With Uzume-ba volunteering to act as a distraction, I found and broke the genjutsu set on Tsunade-sama,” Sai reports quickly. 

Shikako tells him, “Good job!” because she can’t discourage that expression on her friend’s face, smiling fit to match him. She glances at Uzume, though, still worried. “And it’s...okay?” By this she means: not being rumored as an Uchiha coup by idiots who may or may not be elders; not sparking some kind of weird civil war; not going to end in sudden executions anytime soon. 

As much as she likes Sai, she suspects his education in subtle political nuance is less complete than his training in battle. For some odd reason Danzō must not have found it relevant. 

The smile Uzume gives has a lot of teeth for its small size. “ _You_ may not have offered any proof, but the first investigation after Shimura’s death turned up all kinds of interesting awful things he had his arm into. Tsunade-sama is angry with him, not with us.” 

That’s some relief, though Shikako wonders what Mikoto makes of the situation. “Thank you both,” she says with deep and sincere gratitude. 

“You’re right that it would be awkward if the wrong kind of rumors got out,” Uzume tells her, “so don’t talk about this except under privacy seals. All right?” 

Shikako doesn’t hesitate, more than willing to stick by that rule. “I won’t forget.” She’d never want to put Sai’s new family at greater risk if she can help it. 

And it’s okay, now. She won’t have to use Sai’s affection to break out or to rescue Aoba, she won’t have to get all of the remaining Uchiha in trouble over her unverifiable claims, she won’t have to fight familiar faces with deadly force. 

She looks down and notices with startled distance that her hands are shaking, and wipes them on her knees to still them. 

“I’d really like to give you a hug,” Shikako tells Sai, “if that’s okay with you. And allowed.” She doesn’t want to upset anyone or trigger an attack from Sai’s very competent guardian. 

“If it helps you, I don’t mind,” Sai answers at once, which has the sound of an excuse Shikako might have offered him long ago. 

Uzume tilts a hint of a nod toward Shikako. “I suppose I can permit it this once, kid.” Her tone is just dry enough that Shikako suspects a joke. 

It’s clear that Uzume has recategorized Shikako from “threat” to “person my family cares about,” regardless of the difference between worlds. That’s good, because Sai himself latched on much faster. Shikako would never want to put him in a position where his friendship with her cost him the family he’s gained. 

She’s been afraid since they first spoke in this cell that she would have no choice. 

Shikako stands and holds out her right arm, the better to convince Sai. The other Shikako who fought by him and died in the faint hope of helping him would absolutely want her friend to have the kind of affection he deserves, and if Shikako isn’t much of a substitute at least she’s here. 

After a moment, Sai steps closer, resting a tentative arm around her shoulders. The extra years that separate their worlds have made him unfairly tall. 

A glance shows he’s looking at her with red active sharingan. She doesn’t mention the fact. 

Still a friend. Still a teammate. Sai’s always deserved more than she can manage to give him. Shikako wraps her arm around his back and holds on for a warm quiet comfort. 

Shikako only meant to hold on for a moment, but she feels Sai clench both fists in the thin fabric of her shirt, clinging in silence. She can feel his head bend to press against her shoulder, and the uneven breaths they both take. Sai is as careful with her as though she might shatter, which, in this cell binding all her normal use of chakra, isn’t as inaccurate as Shikako would like to think it usually would be. 

At least someone’s taught him a little about hugs, which she assumes are also not on Danzō’s list of approved techniques. 

Aoba’s alive and Sai thinks it’s going to be okay. Shikako trusts Sai. She can relax a tiny bit for the first time since the cultists caught her. 

“Thank you, Hikaku,” she murmurs, because he isn’t the friend she knows but she can’t help caring about him. His version of Shikako would want to tell him that much at least. And what else? “It makes me so happy to see you with people who care about you. I’m sure she’d be delighted that you found a family.” 

Maybe she sniffles a little. She doesn’t have to admit to that. She won’t talk about Sai’s choked breath against her shoulder either. 

After the hug ends, Shikako has to ask a little more; there’s such a wide range to _okay_. “Do you think they’ll let me work on taking Aoba back home?” 

Not letting a stranger do experimental sealwork inside Konoha would be understandable, but she can’t let that stop her from getting home. If they won’t allow that and also won’t let her out of Konoha, she’ll be in trouble eventually. Not as much trouble as before, but Shikako isn’t willing to wait forever. 

Uzume snorts. “As much help as you’ve been, kid, no one wants rumors about a new seal master destabilizing the peace. I’m sure you can talk Jiraiya into checking your work.” 

And making sure her attempts won’t blow up Konoha; that’s quite fair. Shikako nods, thoughtful. She’s not sure how to move between worlds without the desperation and reality-warping effects of the earlier incident, but something more controlled would be so much better. So much safer. She can’t bear to risk Aoba’s life when she watched it so nearly go out. 

“Mikoto-sama said that you don’t want your partner to know about Danzō,” Sai says, voice impressively steady. “He’s still a danger to you in your world.” 

Shikako hesitates, not sure where Sai is going with this except that all possibilities are painful and awkward. 

He frowns at her. “You have allies here, you’re safe from him here, you can investigate...I don’t want you to go home unless you believe you can _win_ there, Shikako.” 

“Ah.” She’s been avoiding this issue for so long it hurts to pull it out and consider what Sai’s saying. 

Of course he doesn’t want the alternate of his friend to run off and die exactly the same way. Shikako wouldn’t want any of her friends to die, either. 

From the side Uzume puts in, “You really need a better plan, kid.” 

Shikako deflates, wrapping her arms around herself. They aren’t wrong. Fighting Danzō in public is a terrible plan and it’s still her last resort. Every possible option would get so many people killed. 

But she has time here, unsupervised by Danzō. Time to talk to the Nara clan, time to talk with the Uchiha and with Inoichi about what they saw of the genjutsu. She probably can’t do any of this without Aoba noticing. He’s an Intel shinobi for a reason. 

If she commits to sudden murder what would that do to the timeline she expects? Should that matter when so much has already changed? 

Shikako doesn’t know, she doesn’t know and she can’t decide anything when she’s exhausted and drained and chakra-blind. “I’ll think about it,” she tells Sai, because he deserves that much for his kindness. 

“You should take me with you.” Sai tries to sound firm, but the waver in his voice turns it a little plaintive. 

No. What? “No,” Shikako blurts rudely, pauses and backtracks. “How will I even know whether I can send you home again?” 

Sai shakes his head. “You’ll figure it out. We should fight him together.” 

“If my kid convinces you to take him along, I’ll be coming too,” Uzume says, voice light and dangerous. “This isn't negotiable. Understand?” 

“I’m a jōnin,” Sai points out in protest. 

But Shikako smiles a little sadly; of course being a responsible adult in the eyes of the village has nothing to do with the desire of a family to help each other. “I still think it would be safer if neither of you came, but I won’t take Hikaku without your backup,” she agrees to the condition. 

She has enough grasp of tactics to understand that Uzume would make her regret any other plan. The concession won’t matter if she leaves Sai here in safety. 

Sai gives a soft unhappy grunt, a habit he has clearly picked up from Sasuke. The sound of it very nearly makes Shikako laugh, which is hardly appropriate. 

“Is Aoba okay?” she asks instead, to change the subject. She can feel that he’s not worse, but that’s hardly a fact she’s going to advertise. “Can I see him soon?” 

Uzume nods, a tightening of her lips betraying sympathy. “He’s fine. Inoichi has him sleeping off the mindscan, but I’m sure he’ll be awake enough to insist on seeing you soon.” 

Good. That’s good. Shikako exhales and tries not to let the unanswered questions overwhelm her. One step at a time.

* * *

Swinging open the door to the interrogation cell, Inoichi tries not to wince at the wary look which greets him, little Shikako tense as if she would like to run. Shikako has every reason to fear him right now, and the fact hurts. “I’m only here to bring you to see Aoba,” he promises. Inoichi probably couldn’t use his own mind arts again even if he had to, right now. 

Her whole posture straightens in relief and excitement, although her eyes stay level and cautious. “He’s all right?” she asks at once. 

As expected, Aoba is still having flashbacks, but he’s recovered enough to control them for Shikako’s sake; her presence might help. “Well enough to see you,” Inoichi assures her. “He still needs to rest, but he’s recovering fast. I have permission to move you both to stay in the same cell for a few days, if you want that.” 

Shikako lets out a long breath and smiles. “Absolutely,” she says. 

Her tentative faith in Inoichi’s word is more than he deserves, but he’s grateful for it. 

The list of things that Inoichi urgently needs to get done is about a hundred times longer than it was before. He feels several thousand times better about all of it now that Tsunade-sama has come by to ask advice and give orders that make sense and growl about Danzō along with everyone else. 

Now that this version of Shikako-chan has been designated a cooperating witness of sorts, an ally if they’re lucky, she doesn’t have to stay trapped in the interrogation cell. 

Inoichi unlocks the sealed door and holds it open. 

As seems to be the usual pattern, Shikako coughs. It doesn’t seem to distress her. In fact, Shikako relaxes once clear of the room’s seals as though more than the usual vulnerability of a trained shinobi being without chakra has lifted. For a moment she closes her eyes without actually missing a step. 

Further evidence that Shikako’s chakra sense is unusually keen and that she’s used to being able to rely on it. The Yamanaka clan has had many sensors over the generations, and Inoichi recognizes the signs. 

He wonders if she can feel Aoba from here. Quite possibly. This isn’t an appropriate time to ask about her range, but Inoichi knows Aoba had been impressed by it. 

Between one hallway and another, Shikako says quietly, “I should apologize for earlier. I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Since Inoichi has been planning and not finding quite the right words for an apology of his own, this surprises him. “Of course you didn’t,” he says after a moment. “I think that mess was more my fault than yours.” 

“No hard feelings?” Shikako proposes. “As long as you won’t do it again.” She trails off a little, as though it’s hard to know how to address him. Inoichi, mind full of his daughter’s shy friend Shikako-chan, can sympathize. 

“A generous offer. I accept.” He absolutely won’t be breaking into the mind of a seal master who survived so many traumas in such short order. If he’d taken the time to ask her about them, he wouldn’t have tried it to begin with. 

It’s such a relief to know that from now on the Hokage will at least listen. 

Shikako turns a solemn nod toward him. Bargain sealed. Good. 

Maybe his Ino-chan won’t murder him when she finds out about this whole incident. 

Since Tsunade-sama issued new orders, Shikako’s mission partner has been transferred from an interrogation cell to a friendlier suite meant for allies who need to be kept out of public view. Shikako and Aoba won’t be without chakra, which is good. There’s always some chance of hostilities in a situation this complicated with so many compromised ANBU. 

Besides that, from Aoba’s memories Inoichi knows that before the seal mishap they were both captured and held helpless. Showing them some trust may help them recover. 

Shikako looks notably relieved at seeing the door where Inoichi pauses. It’s already obvious she’s familiar with T&I layout and procedures. If she were an enemy, that would be a problem. Inoichi hopes they won’t make her one. 

Inside, Anko has her feet comfortably kicked up over the top of one chair while she leans back in another. “...never saw myself going for promotion,” she’s saying, and her eyes flick to the door in careful assessment before she recognizes Inoichi and Shikako. “You’ve got visitors,” she adds. 

Aoba pushes himself up from the white sheets of his bed, blinking away a weary look. “Thank you, Anko.” He notices the girl behind Inoichi, and their relieved grins match one another perfectly. “Shikako!” 

“Aoba-senpai!” Shikako darts past Inoichi and Anko to secure a chair at Aoba’s bedside. “Don’t get up,” she says firmly, “you’re still recovering. I’m right here.” She reaches to catch his wrist in a light comforting grip. 

“I’ll be fine,” Aoba says, but he doesn’t try to stand. “Have you eaten? Inoichi keeps bringing me ration bars and Anko’s been offering me dango.” 

Three ration bars in Akimichi wrappings rest on the bedside table along with two skewers of sweet dough balls, still warm enough to fill the air with a tempting scent. In an unusual choice for a teenager, Shikako snags a ration bar first. 

Inoichi remembers with some dismay that she can’t have had anything except ration bars since she was first imprisoned. Real hunger may have driven that decision. “I’ll make a note to have your next meal be something besides ration bars or dango,” he assures them both. By now Aoba ought to be capable of keeping down a light meal. 

“I’d appreciate that, if it’s not too much trouble.” Shikako is far more polite when she’s less terrified, Inoichi notes. She sounds very like her mother. 

It’s a painful reminder that their Shikako-chan might have grown up like this, if Konoha hadn’t lost her, if her own village elder hadn’t betrayed her. “Not at all.” He musters up a smile. 

Shikako looks at Anko with the air of someone as badly in need of a distraction as Inoichi feels. “I think you’d be a great jōnin. You’re such a good teacher.” A statement with remarkable confidence considering that Shikako’s never seen this version of Anko before. As usual, Shikako sounds more familiar with Konoha than a stranger has any right to be. 

“That doesn’t sound much like me,” Anko objects, as well she might when Inoichi doesn’t think she’s ever taught a child anything. 

“You just need some practice,” Shikako says. “In our Konoha Tsunade-sama assigned you an apprentice.” 

Shikaku’s little girl used to talk to his Ino-chan that way when the Academy students ran into some childhood discouragement. 

As fascinating as it is to watch Shikako’s familiar efforts to talk her friends and acquaintances into helping one another out even in a different world, Inoichi can’t stay here forever. He slips quietly out the door with a nod of farewell to acknowledge Aoba’s pointed look. 

He certainly intends to keep Shikako safe, and with Shikako’s helpful tip, he even thinks Konoha can do right by her this time. 

As Inoichi expects, the Jōnin Commander is waiting for him right next door. Arms folded, face forbidding, Shikaku is watching the girl who looks almost like his daughter. 

Inoichi activates the privacy seals, making sure no one can listen in on this particular conversation before he even approaches his old teammate. “They look happy,” he remarks, in faint hope that Shikaku will actually talk. 

Hikaku and Uzume already made sure Shikaku was free of genjutsu; it hadn’t exactly been difficult to ask him to a meeting to discuss information about the prisoner. The aftermath is much harder to handle or predict. 

Within the hidden bunkroom, Shikako picks up a stick of dango and a bottle of water and laughs as she tells Anko, “Once Gai-sensei believes you’re training to jōnin level, you are definitely training to jōnin level. You can take that as advice or as a warning, I guess.” 

Both Aoba and Shikako show every sign of trusting Anko, which Inoichi finds fascinating to watch considering how much of Konoha never has quite trusted the traitor’s apprentice. The idea of Gai’s enthusiasm added to Anko’s unique personality is a little terrifying even to him, but a far worse prospect for Konoha’s enemies. 

Shikaku closes his eyes. Inoichi has to lean forward to catch his low, bleak murmur. “Shikako-chan was always hiding. We thought she was only shy. If she knew enough to warn us, how long has she been afraid, Inoichi? How long has she known that her father can’t protect her?” 

“Your Shikako-chan knew how much you loved her.” Inoichi knows the words sound obvious and useless, but it’s what he thinks his friend needs to hear. 

A muscle twitches in Shikaku’s cheek. His dark eyes flicker open, pained. “Our Shikako-chan died fighting alone. She couldn’t find a single ally in Konoha except the child she fought to protect.” 

Inoichi doesn’t hide his own flinch at the hit. Fair is fair. “Danzō outplayed all of us,” he agrees. “Are you going to let that stop you?” 

A long sigh hisses from between Shikaku’s teeth. He lifts one hand to cover his face. “Of course not.” He glances toward Inoichi, equal parts weary and sardonic. “I take it you think I should talk to her.” 

They know each other too well. “I think you’ll regret not talking to her.” It would be all too easy for Shikaku to find reasons to avoid this pain. Inoichi has some idea how much pain it will be. 

The visitor who might have been Shikako-chan needs help, needs a reminder of home; Konoha needs to know as much as they can convince her to offer of her information. Shikaku needs to face this and work through it, and that means talking to the girl sooner or later. 

Shikaku stares at the living echo of the daughter he’s mourned for years. His expression goes a little tighter every time she laughs. 

“She’s an excellent sensor,” Inoichi points out. “It’s best to assume she already knows you’re here.” 

Only silence meets him for a long moment. Inoichi waits, as Shikako continues talking about Gai in notably respectful terms. It’s impossible not to wonder how hard she’s worked herself, to respect Gai’s over-enthusiastic training quite so much. Is she really implying that she’d like all her friends to work to Gai’s standard? 

Given what Shikako’s already told them, that’s disturbing for more than one reason. Inoichi resigns himself to increasing his own training with Ino. 

At last Inoichi’s patience gets the expected reward: “Fine,” Shikaku grumbles, “ask her.”

Generous in victory, Inoichi doesn’t move quite yet. “Our guest may be the most motivated Nara I’ve ever heard of,” he comments. 

Shikaku snorts. “Yoshino will be proud.” 

It’s difficult for Inoichi to know what to say, but he feels the need to offer some initial observations. “If Shikako’s fear drove her to master seals the way it seems to have driven her to learn everything she could from her Kakashi-sensei and Gai-sensei, maybe we shouldn’t be surprised she broke the Hiraishin.” Neither jōnin could be called easy to learn from. 

“I’ll make every effort not to frighten her more,” Shikaku says, voice dry but a trace of concern leaking into his eyes. 

Inoichi shakes his head. Of course Shikaku will be gentle with his daughter. That’s the trouble. “Don’t underestimate her,” he advises.

* * *

In unspoken accord, Anko and Shikako have both gone quiet as Aoba stops trying to hide the exhaustion on his face. 

For Shikako it’s reassuring to watch Aoba relax toward sleep, to see him safe and feel his chakra unmuffled. She dares to hope the dim spark of that other energy she can sense in him will keep recovering. He’s alive. He’ll be okay. 

She’s not so tired that she could miss the nearby presence of someone who feels so much like her father. When the wire spool of chakra that she knows is Inoichi moves back toward the locked door, Shikako stands to meet him. 

_Ally returns,_ she signs to Anko in Konoha standard, and gets an immediate acknowledgement and a curious look from the older woman. She wouldn’t want Anko to worry that she’s reacting to an unknown or a threat. Inoichi probably isn’t a threat. 

No point hiding such a minor part of her abilities now that her own chakra isn’t sealed away. They must have some idea how well she can sense chakra after going through Aoba’s memories. 

Shikako is trying to be grateful that Aoba bought them both a little trust, but her mission partner was so weak to begin with that she’s still upset he had to go through such a draining technique. 

If anyone asks Aoba to submit to another mindscan, she won’t take the request well. Not until he’s healthy, at the very least. 

But Aoba is asleep and safe and there are lots of other reasons Inoichi would want to talk to her. 

When he opens the door to find her waiting, he only smiles, unsurprised. “Hello again, Shikako,” he greets her politely. “My friend would like to talk to you. If you’re tired, it doesn’t have to be now.” 

He means Shikaku, of course. “I’m not that tired, if his schedule is clear now,” Shikako says. 

It’s not really his schedule she’s worried about. Inoichi knows it at once; he lifts his eyebrows just a bit. “He spoke with your friend Hikaku earlier, so he’s got plenty of time now. Time, and questions.” 

Time, questions, and also a mind free from genjutsu. Or so Shikako will have to trust. She can’t feel a difference fine enough to pick out of his familiar chakra, it’s so much like her father, and there are so many possible reasons for the remaining changes. Which at least means the orders can’t have hurt this world’s Shikaku Nara in quite the same way as they hurt Tsunade-sama. The brittle touch of the Hokage’s chakra had made her nearly unrecognizable. 

She hopes knowing about Danzō won’t make that worse for either of them. They’ll have support from Inoichi, right? 

But Shikako would like to speak with this version of her father, even if it sounds painful and awkward for both of them. “I’d be happy to answer at least a few questions before I try to sleep.” Shikako isn’t sure she’d be able to sleep while she wonders how Shikaku’s taking all this, especially if he’s going to keep watching her. 

To her complete lack of surprise, when Inoichi leads her out the door he heads toward Shikaku Nara’s chakra signature. Shikako is silent while the privacy seals flare, because she doesn’t think she has enough focus to hold safe conversation for potential eavesdroppers. 

It hurts to see that grim look on a face that might as well be her father’s. She never wanted to see what it would look like if her dad got news of her death. 

“It’s safe to talk,” Inoichi reports after a moment, probably because neither of them are talking yet. 

Shikako swallows hard. “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

Should she have come up with something more useful to open this conversation? Probably. But she is glad; she’s so relieved that the actions her other self took as a child trying to save the Uchiha clan haven’t gotten the Nara clan wiped out. She’s even more glad that people have listened, that Danzō won’t be manipulating anyone here. 

The dark expression cracks just a little. “Likewise,” Shikaku admits, with a glint of dry humor. 

Her mind feels blank, unable to come up with anything to protect or help the family who lost their little girl. “Do you...have any specific questions?” she offers after a weary moment. She doesn’t mind answering most of them. Probably. If she could think of any. 

“How far along have you gotten with the Nara arts?” 

That question and the faintest twitch of a smile makes him look so much like her father that Shikako almost laughs. “I’m coming along well for my age,” she answers, half-teasing, because that’s what her father has told her. “Do you want a demonstration?” 

Shikaku nods, curiosity lightening the grief in his eyes a little. 

The dim lamps in this room aren’t the best for shadow arts, but it’s not like either of them want to fight. Shikako stretches her chakra swiftly into her shadow and bends it around the light. It pauses to wave a cheerful hand and Shikaku snorts. 

When her shadow passes over his, it feels just like the shadow her own dad would cast. She stretches into that velvet sky and doesn’t make any particular effort to overpower him. “I can do shadow possession,” she assures him, “but I’m too tired for it right now.” 

“Well done,” he rasps after a long peaceful silence. “I hope you know how proud your father...is. Would be.” 

“I know,” Shikako assures him, stretching her physical hand to press against his wrist in some small comfort. “I do know.” Her parents are proud and worried, her brother is worried and overprotective but also proud, and in this world her father would have been delighted with anything her little alternate accomplished if only it hadn’t ended in Shikako-chan’s death. 

A distraction seems called for. She can’t show off her full shadow state transformation without giving away a trump card and attempting to explain how the Gelel stone she found works, so she doesn’t mention it. 

On the other hand, she can absolutely share one trick she’s been working on. Even with Danzō out of the way, it’s good to have options to prevent genjutsu. “I have something you might not, actually.” Lucky that he asked about Nara skills. She’s not in any shape to remember this kind of thing unprompted. “I hope it might help if I have to fight anyone with a Sharingan.” Itachi, Danzō, Madara, whatever enemy turns up next. 

She shapes the chakra carefully with her hands, so that Shikaku can see, and hooks both hands over her eyes, drawing the dim room into a strange shadowy contrast. 

“Ah,” he says, eyebrows right up. 

Shikako grins, pleased to have surprised him. “My dad invented that for me,” she tells him. “I think he’d want your clan to have it.” 

They go over the details of Shadow Sight and its uses and how to test its limits until Shikako can’t hide a tremendous yawn. Shikaku pins her with a far too familiar look and she rubs a sheepish hand across the back of her head. 

“You should sleep,” he says. 

Yes, but will she get another chance to speak with the Jōnin Commander? “How would you recommend taking out Danzō, in my world?” Shikako can’t quite keep herself from asking. 

He lets out a gusty sigh. “Not by yourself.” 

Shikako blinks. Innocently. She certainly hasn’t been assuming a plan in which she sneaks back alone, keeping Aoba and Sai safe until the coast is clear. 

His level return stare doesn’t waver. It doesn’t look like Shikaku is going to buy this act. She’s too tired to sell it properly, maybe. 

“Gather intel before you commit to a plan,” Shikaku advises. 

Behind her, Inoichi coughs. “Aoba won’t be happy if you leave him out of that step.” 

Well. True. But if she tells him too much, she won’t be able to keep him safe…

Shikako’s thoughts jerk to a sudden halt. Is this the way Shikamaru feels about her, the desperate need to see her unharmed rising above her own right to choose what danger she goes into? 

She is much, much too tired to think about that now. 

Later. Later she can think about that, and about how to get home in the first place, and about plans and how to gather information and what to tell the people here about the possible future threats like Akatsuki or Madara. Later she can get out her notebook of seals and begin explaining to Aoba how the Hiraishin sent them here. 

“I do need to sleep,” she admits. 

Shikaku smiles at her. He pulls something small and black from one of his equipment pouches. “Go ahead. You can give these to Aoba for me in the morning.” 

They’re sunglasses. Not quite the style of the ones Aoba lost, but probably the closest someone could find from a shop on short notice. 

Shikako chuckles. “Thank you,” she says with total sincerity. “He doesn’t look right without them.” 

“Completely wrong,” Inoichi agrees. “We can’t have that.” 

“Good night,” Shikako tells them both by habit, hiding another yawn. Inoichi guides her back to the suite, where she gives Anko the sunglasses to protect until Aoba’s awake and falls into her own bed almost too tired to dream. 

Even as she drifts to sleep, she can feel Aoba near and alive. Anko’s guarding them. Shikaku Nara is on their side. They’re going to be all right.

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this fic comes from Tolkien's _The Two Towers_ , specifically the part where Gandalf shows up again, because how could I break such a lovely theme?


End file.
